


Flip the Script

by Seraphtrevs



Series: Only You [5]
Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Playing House, Role Reversal, but maybe not completely, catching feelings, fuck me papi, fucked up yet tender, lalo is a sociopath, turns out salamancas do get fucked sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs
Summary: Nacho splayed his fingers over Lalo’s throat, matching them to the bruises there. “I want to fuck you.”It was a risk. Lalo had said Salamancas didn’t get fucked. But from the heat in Lalo’s eyes, he could tell he’d made the right move. “You think you can handle me?”In response, Nacho tightened his grip—not hard. Lalo batted his hand away and laughed. “You are one sick fuck, Nachito.” He grabbed the back of Nacho’s skull and pulled him into a hard kiss. “Take me to bed, then.”Nacho flips the script and gets on top, but he's still not in control.
Relationships: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Series: Only You [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658944
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	Flip the Script

The whir of a vacuum woke Nacho up.

His first thought was Jo. She went on cleaning binges sometimes when she was tweaking and was especially fond of running the vacuum cleaner. It took a few hazy moments before he remembered. Not Jo. Not ever again—nor Amber, either.

That left one person. It seemed Lalo hadn’t left.

The question was why. Nacho had nearly choked him out last night. His hands flexed at the memory. What had come over him? Strangling Lalo Salamanca was easily one of the stupidest things he’d ever done.

He’d just been so angry. The girls had been his one solace. It was sad and fucked up, but it was the truth. They let him forget for a little while how lonely he was. He could drop defenses and be soft with them. Sure, they were only there for the drugs. But in a way, that had been comforting, too. He didn’t have to worry about them leaving, so long as he kept them supplied.

But Nacho was allowed nothing for himself anymore. Not his pride, not his dignity, not his privacy. Lalo picked at the carcass of his life like a vulture, and soon there would be nothing left.

And so he’d snapped. He didn’t care that choking Lalo out was signing his own death warrant, whether Lalo survived or not. His life was over, anyway. It would be a relief, in a way, to have it all end. Maybe he would have actually killed him, except he was fucking himself on Lalo’s cock at the same time. The twin flames of rage and lust combined into an inferno that had overwhelmed him. He came so hard he nearly passed out.

An immediate wave of horror crashed over him as soon as his orgasm was over. He’d released Lalo, who gasped and coughed beside him while Nacho’s thoughts spiraled. What kind of sick fuck was he? Had this darkness always lurked inside him? Or had Lalo infected him?

And if he had, how deep did the infection go?

He had waited for Lalo to recover and retaliate, or shit, call some foot soldiers to drag him out to the desert to torture him. But Lalo hadn’t done that. Instead, he’d rolled over and looked deep into Nacho’s eyes.

 _Point taken_ , he’d said. _I think we understand each other now, no?_

But Nacho understood nothing. Not a single fucking thing.

The rest of the night was hazy. Lalo ordered them take-out. They watched _2001: A Space Odyssey_. At some point, Nacho went to bed. He assumed that Lalo had left. Guess not.

Nacho rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth. His gaze fell on the trashcan. A tied-off condom had been thrown in it.

So Lalo had come, too. He had wondered.

After pulling on a T-shirt and jeans, Nacho went to the living room. Lalo had just finished vacuuming and smiled brightly when he entered. He was fully dressed in last night’s clothes. “ _Buenos días, cariño_. Sleep well?”

Dark bruises circled his throat in the shape of fingers—his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot. Nacho felt sick.

“You shouldn’t let the mess get so bad,” Lalo continued lightly. “A little cleaning every day is all you need. You keep out housekeeping spies that way, too.” Lalo put the vacuum away in the front closet and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

He was acting like nothing had happened. Should Nacho play along? He was sick to death of playing.

Nacho followed him into the kitchen, which had been cleaned, too. Lalo whistled as he took the eggs and butter out of the fridge. “How do you like your eggs?” He held up a finger. “Wait, let me guess. You look like an over-easy man. Am I right?”

“What do you want from me?” Nacho asked instead of answering.

Lalo tapped his finger to his mouth. “Hmm. Maybe scrambled is more your style.” He got a bowl from the cupboard, cracked the eggs.

Nacho felt like strangling him again. “I’m yours. I get that part. But I can’t fucking guess what you want beyond that. Just tell me. Please.”

Lalo didn’t answer right away. He took a fork from the drawer and whisked the eggs. “Did you talk much business with your girls?”

His heart sped up. Were they still in danger? “Never. They don’t know anything.”

Lalo rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry—your whores are safe. My point is, you couldn’t talk about what you do with them. To protect them, or because they wouldn’t understand. Yes?”

Nacho folded his arms. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“It’s a problem in our profession.” Lalo took out a frying pan and set it on the stovetop. The burner flamed to life. “Relationships—too complicated. But it gets lonely, yeah?”

Nacho blinked. He was lonely?

“Of course, you can always pay for company. But that’s hardly satisfying.” Lalo put a tab of butter in the pan and poked at it with a spatula as it melted. “I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t want a whore. I want…a companion. Someone who can work with me, and then come home and play.” Lalo grinned, showing all his teeth. “Do you understand now?”

Slowly, Nacho nodded. “I think so.”

Lalo patted his arm. “Good. Now, go sit down. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

He did as he was told. A short time later, he had a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him, along with a steaming cup of coffee. Lalo sat down across from him and propped his chin on one hand.

Nacho ate. It seemed to give Lalo great pleasure to watch. He made sure to finish every last bite.

He pushed his plate back. “So are we working or playing today?”

Lalo let out a throaty chuckle. “A little of both, I think. No one should need us until later.”

“Okay, then.” Nacho stood, picked up his plate, and brought it to the sink. He turned around. “What are we playing? House?”

Lalo rose to his feet and prowled over to him until they were only a breath apart. “I’m done playing house. Have any other ideas?”

Nacho had to tilt his chin to meet his gaze. He really fucking hated that Lalo was taller.

Taller, but not stronger. Nacho touched Lalo’s neck gently. “I could have killed you last night.”

“Ah, but you didn’t.” He made it sound like that was a grand, romantic gesture. Lalo put a hand over Nacho’s. “I think you liked having your hands around my throat.”

Nacho’s dick twitched. Christ, this was so fucked up. “You liked it, too.”

Lalo inhaled sharply. “What else do you want to do to me?”

Nacho splayed his fingers over Lalo’s throat, matching them to the bruises there. “I want to fuck you.”

It was a risk. Lalo had said Salamancas didn’t get fucked. But from the heat in Lalo’s eyes, he could tell he’d made the right move. “You think you can handle me?”

In response, Nacho tightened his grip—not hard. Lalo batted his hand away and laughed. “You are one sick fuck, Nachito.” He grabbed the back of Nacho’s skull and pulled him into a hard kiss. “Take me to bed, then.”

Back to the bedroom. They made short work of their clothes and fell to the bed, kissing and groping each other. Nacho pulled away to work his way down Lalo’s body until his face was level with his enormous cock.

Nacho licked his lips. Lalo had sucked his dick tons, but Nacho had never returned the favor. Never in his life had he wanted to suck a cock, but Lalo’s enthusiasm had piqued his interest. He ran his tongue over the tip, taking in the salty taste of Lalo’s arousal. Lalo shuddered and wrapped a hand around the back of Nacho’s head, encouraging him forward. Nacho opened his mouth and took the head in. A burst of precome splashed on his tongue. Lalo moaned, his hips rocking up.

But no way was Lalo’s giant horse cock getting all the way in his mouth. He wrapped one hand around the base and pressed the other on Lalo’s hip, holding him down. “Stay still,” he growled.

Lalo’s reply was half-laugh, half-moan. “ _Si, papi_.”

A surge of arousal struck him. Sure, they were just playing, but having a Salamanca call him daddy made his dick throb. Nacho took his dick in his mouth. He lowered his head, brought it up again. Lalo held perfectly still, although his hands twisted in the sheets. Nacho stroked Lalo’s cock while bringing his head down. It was awkward, but at last he got the motions of his hand and mouth coordinated. Lalo writhed beneath him, his moans growing louder.

Nacho wondered how he ever thought giving head was something passive. He let his teeth drag along his dick—he could bite him, if he wanted. He had the power here, not the other way around. He didn’t think he’d ever get a taste for cock sucking the same way Lalo did, but for the first time, he understood the appeal.

Hands pulled at his shoulders. “Enough!” Lalo said, laughing. “This will be over too soon.”

Nacho let his dick slip out of his mouth and moved up again. They kissed once, twice. Nacho pressed his lips against Lalo’s ear. “On your knees or on your back?” he growled, echoing the question Lalo had posed to him not too long ago.

Lalo moaned. “On my knees, for you.”

Nacho reached into the nightstand and pulled out lube and a condom. Lalo turned over, his knees spread, his ass in the air. Nacho hesitated.

Lalo looked back over his shoulder. “Everything all right?”

“You’ve done this before, right?”

Lalo turned back over. “Yes. Why?” A grin spread over his lips. “Are you worried about hurting me, Nachito?”

He was, actually. Which made no goddamn sense.

Lalo plucked the tube from his hands and kissed him. “Let me.” He slicked his own fingers lay on his back, spreading his legs. Slowly, he pressed one inside. Nacho watched, rapt, as Lalo fucked himself with one finger, then two. He stroked his dick with his other hand, letting out low, sighing in pleasure. Christ, it was hot.

After rolling on the condom, Nacho grabbed the lube. Lalo pulled his fingers out of himself and propped himself back on his elbows, panting, a dark fire in his eyes, his lips wet and inviting.

Nacho kissed him, enjoying the contrast between his soft lips and prickly moustache. He was surprised at his own tenderness.

Lalo broke away and lay down on his back again. “I changed my mind. I want to see you.”

Nacho grabbed a pillow and put it under Lalo’s hips, raising his ass for easier access. Lalo put his legs around Nacho’s waist, urging him forward.

“Fuck me, _papi_!” Lalo moaned.

Nacho lined his dick up and pressed forward. It took some pressure—he was so fucking tight—but at last he breached him. They both gasped. Nacho was already dripping sweat, pleasure thrumming through his body. He thrust in deeper—it was like Lalo was drawing him into his body, devouring him.

He pulled out slowly and pushed in again, determined to ease him into it.

But Lalo was having none of that. “I said _fuck me_.” It was more of a growl this time.

Nacho obliged. He rammed into him, over and over. Lalo moaned his approval and tilted his head back, exposing his throat, showing off those dark bruises. Was that on purpose? Nacho couldn’t take his eyes off them—guilt, shame, and arousal swirled together. He was sick, _sick_ —

His thrusts sped up. He pounded into him so hard Lalo’s body rattled with each thrust.

“ _Si, si, si_!” Lalo called out. His hand was on his cock, stroking it in time with Nacho’s frantic thrusts. It erupted, shooting thick ropes of come all over his stomach and chest.

Nacho came soon after, unable to resist the way Lalo’s body constricted around him. He came so hard he nearly blacked out.

He collapsed on top of Lalo with an _oomph._ Lalo laughed and squirmed out from under him. Nacho shivered as his cock slipped out of Lalo’s body. “Ay, you’re heavy!”

Nacho rolled over to his back, his chest heaving. “Sorry,” he managed to pant.

In response, Lalo kissed him on the mouth—sweet, gentle.

Nacho put a hand on his cheek, brushed his finger against the bruises again. “You okay?” His voice quivered.

Lalo kissed his palm. “Such a tender heart you have, _amorcito_ ,” he murmured.

Only a Salamanca could call someone who strangled them tenderhearted. Nacho opened his mouth to retort, but to his horror, something close to a sob tumbled out.

Lalo drew Nacho into his arms, encouraging him to lay his head on his chest. His chest hair tickled his cheek—so different from a girl. Lalo kissed the top of his head, stroked his face, whispering nonsense as Nacho’s breathing slowed. Why the fuck was Lalo comforting him? Nacho had nearly killed him while they were fucking, and had gotten off on it. What was wrong with him?

Eventually, Lalo gave him one more kiss and got out of bed. “Come shower with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

Nacho took it. The shower felt good, the warm water soothing his tense muscles. Lalo soaped him up, rubbed his shoulders, still murmuring. “ _Muy hermoso, mi amor, muy fuerte…”_

Beautiful? Strong? His eyes welled up. “ _Basta_ , stop, I can’t—”

And then he was crying. Lalo held him under the hot water, kissed him again.

When he had quieted, Lalo turned off the water. They got out, dried off, went back to bed. The clock said it was noon, but Nacho was still tired, so tired…

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he falling apart now? He was reminded of the first time they fucked, laying out on the bed after Lalo had ravished him. He almost cried then, too. Was this just something that was going to happen when they fucked?

No, not fucked. Made love. _Mi amor._

Nacho should hate him. Lalo all but forced him into this relationship, or whatever it was. Nacho was his slave, his prisoner. Lalo had taken his life, possessed him, trapped him…

He should be indifferent to him. Whatever happened between them now would end—Fring hadn’t called him in yet, but it was only a matter of time. In a battle between Fring and Lalo, Nacho wasn’t sure who would win, but Fring was such a snake, no emotion in him at all. And he had the jump on Lalo already. He had a spy, who would serve Lalo up to him on a silver platter or else his papa would die.

He should be disgusted by him. The violence of the Salamancas, the way they destroyed everything they touched. They were evil, reeking of death and destruction.

But those weren’t the feelings he had for Lalo.

He shut off that line of thought before he started crying again. How had his life gotten so fucked up? Would he ever escape?

Did he want to?


End file.
